mindfulness
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I.What of your walk today will you remember?No great blue heron fished in the reeds, through the ice, like that day last winter.You saw no friend you rarely see: none butthose you usually pass and nod to.Who will remember today at all, other thanhow ordinary it was:surely the water rests in the coveand dandelions in…
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I. Standing, feet naked to the earth. Walking, the sensation of flow from heel along the outer edge of sole to outer ball, inner ball, the rhythm of it. Like the sleek shifting weight of a running cougar: the ripple and the grace in the movement. Touching ground, bending knee, taking weight, pushing off, finding…
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Prelminary Visions is available directly from me or certain bookstores. From the cover: “In the deep woods, hikers say, if you feel you are being watched by an animal, you probably are. Preliminary Visions creates moments of being, moments of relation, moments of meaning-making—frequently with that sense of being observed by a silent witness and…
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“She has something to say,” used to be a thing people said to say worth listening to. A high recommendation coming from my favorite English professor, the poet and critic Cal Bedient. But at the time, in my mid-twenties, I didn’t know what I had to say yet. So the compliment was also a challenge.…
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“Self-countered transference” published today in Twisted Vine Literary Arts Journal, p. 101: http://show.wnmu.edu/twistedvine/files/2015/12/TV-Fall-2015.pdf
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Winding, step by slowest step, under strong summer solstice sun towards the center of the labyrinth I pray to let go of the false face of arrogance to let go of insecurity (that mistaken modesty) to let go of need to argue, dominate, compete to let go of comparing mind Grasses and flowers grow between…
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They had hiked so long they knew not whether to take off their boots to save their blisters or keep them on to save their soles. Joking of such things had hit a peak three ridges back, luscious silences ensued. The colors of forest, boulder field, flower, and sky imperceptibly grew more rich and lucid,…
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an abridged version of “Encircling Earth, the Center of Our Gravity” Standing, feet naked to the earth. Walking, the sensation of flow from heel along the outer edge of sole to outer ball, inner ball, the rhythm of it. Like the sleek shifting weight of a running cougar: the ripple and the grace in the…
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an open window a tree the sound of a man typing music of a bamboo flute a woman with closed eyes, sitting through an open window, a tree in a forest, one tree the man stops to eat the woman stops to think the tree goes on listening This poem was published in Preliminary Visions.